Aftermath
by spones
Summary: What happens to a man when he goes off to war. And what happens to a family when he returns.
1. A night to remember

Disclaimer: Downton Abbey and its characters do not belong to me and there's nothing in it for me but fun.

A very special "Thank you!" goes to **GranthamGal**, who kindly read and betaed my little first foray into fanfiction. She gave me the courage to actually publish it. Without her, this piece would have been, well, different, especially in the grammar department ;)

I know that the time frame given here is a bit off, but I wanted Robert & Cora to be a young couple and the children to be little. The Boer War ended in 1902 (if that is indeed the "African War" they keep talking about in the show), so the Crawleys would not have been that freshly married anymore, but there you go.

I'd be delighted to hear what you all think. This story might go on, but it could also be a one-shot, it depends a bit on wether you would like to read more or rather not. Enjoy.

* * *

"Robert? Robert, are you in here?"

Apparently he was not in the library either, and if he wasn't here, then were could he be at this time of night?

"Where are you, you foolish man?" Cora muttered to herself.

Robert hadn't come to bed that night and now Cora was starting to worry. She hadn't heard him in his dressing room earlier, so she assumed he didn't even come up after they had all broken up and gone off to bed. The evening had been quite difficult after all. Her mother-in-law had been in an especially foul mood, which had lead to an atmosphere even frostier than usual. It was all because of Rosamund's behavior, which was known to be slightly off, and even inappropriate at times. Everyone at Downton and in London society knew that, and expected it of her, but Violet felt it was time again to remind her daughter of her duty to the family, society, and propriety, and, and, and…After half an hour of their banter, a shouting match was in full swing, though it had nothing to do with propriety anymore. There had been a terrible row, though to be perfectly honest Cora found it a bit inappropriate that they would fight out their differences at Downton over dinner. After all, it was Robert's and her home now. Well, it hadn't been theirs for very long and the Dowager Countess was the Dowager Countess after all, and so Cora had said nothing as the two women had battled it out over her coffee table.

Robert had not said a word all evening and he had started to look gloomily out of the window at some point, but Cora hadn't given it much thought because there was not much to explain his family's display of emotion anyway. Even Cousin Patrick hadn't said anything, and he was usually the chatty type.

Robert had returned from the African War only two months earlier and Cora sensed that something was still not quite right. He didn't talk much about it; in fact he didn't talk about it at all. She had tried to coax him into telling her at least something, but she had given up after two weeks of his looks suddenly turning distant and his smiles suddenly vanishing into thin air at the first mention of war. The only thing he had ever told her was that his Batman, a certain John Bates, had saved his life; but nothing about how, when, or where. Not so much as one little detail. Though if Cora was honest again, she didn't really want to know. She had missed him so much, had worried so much, and had been so happy when he had returned unscathed that she did not really want know how close he had been to not returning home at all. Home to Downton and home to her.

The first three weeks after his return had been glorious ones, in her memory at least. She and Robert had been reunited and they had enjoyed every minute of it. One Saturday they even stayed in bed all day; which was quite scandalous—even for a young married couple! His love for her seemed to have grown stronger while they had been separated. Now, he never tired of telling her how much he had missed her, how much he loved her, how glad he was that he was home with her, and how much he wanted her.

When Cora thought about those weeks now, she realized that there were in fact small signs that some things had changed. Although, these small things had been very easy to overlook, especially in the blur of passion and happiness they had been enjoying; but they had been there nonetheless. Robert drank a little bit more than before, he hadn't given up his habit of smoking cigarettes yet, and when they made love he was a little bit more demanding, a little bit more aggressive, and he seemed a little bit more lost afterwards.

One afternoon she had found him sitting in the library. He had been staring off at nothing and holding a book in his hands, though he very obviously wasn't reading it. His thoughts were clearly back in Africa, but by that point Cora had already learned that he wouldn't let her in on those thoughts. In her entire life, she had never felt so helpless. Not even upon her realization that she had failed to produce a male heir, a few years earlier. So, Cora had done the only thing that came to mind: she had taken him into her arms without saying anything, and he had let it happen. While she stroked his back, he buried his face into her neck. Cora thought she had heard a sob, though she must have imagined it because as far as she could tell, he wasn't crying, he was just breathing heavily.

"I'm so sorry. I love you so much…so much," he had whispered against her neck.

It had seemed that they had been sitting like that for hours, but in the end it had only been a few minutes. Robert had taken a deep breath, jumped up, told her once more that he was sorry and fled the room. Why exactly he was sorry, she had never found out.

Then, the Earl had died. While inspecting one of the farms of the estate, he had fallen from his horse and had been dead before he had hit the ground. Heart attack, the doctor had told them. All of a sudden, Robert was in charge of Downton.

Around that time, the nightmares had started.

The funeral, the running of the estate, the endless social calls, and the decision of his mother to move out of Downton into the Dower House following his succession to the earldom had kept him occupied. There was suddenly so much to do that Cora had been lucky to have even a few minutes alone with him throughout the day; and even less could be said for their three little daughters, who barely saw him at all. Cora had tried to compensate for the time he didn't have for them, so lately, she had been spending even more time with the children and seeing Robert even less.

In the evening, he had often been so tired that he went straight to sleep after scrambling into their bed. They still made love, but much more infrequently than before. Cora didn't blame him, although she had started to miss their intimate evenings; the talking, the caresses, the tenderness, it was all gone. It would pass, she had told herself, and it wouldn't stay like this—it couldn't. Once the period of great change was over, they would— and could—return to their old bedtime routine, which she had grown to love so much.

Unfortunately, it had only gotten worse.

One night, Cora awoke suddenly to the awful sound of her husband screaming. His face had been covered in sweat, his hair had been wet and plastered on his forehead, and he'd been breathing heavily—clearly having a nightmare. When he had opened his eyes, she had still been staring at him in horror. Robert had needed a few seconds to realize where he was before he was reassured that it had all been just a dream. Cora had never seen him like that and she had been quite shocked. In fact, she was so shocked that she had missed the opportunity to stop him when he had gotten out of their bed and retreated to his dressing room. Not without mumbling another "I'm so sorry" of course, but that didn't help either. That didn't help at all and it wouldn't do. She was his wife, if he was having problems and would not confide in her, even a little bit, then what was she to do? All Cora wanted to do was to help him in any way she could, but was it even possible if he continued to shut her out?

Robert's nightmares became more and more frequent. He would always wake up and tell her he was sorry and immediately retreat to his dressing room. It had become a pattern. Tonight though, he obviously didn't even want to go to sleep at all. She thought about just going to sleep and letting him do whatever it was he was doing because she wasn't even really sure if he needed time to himself or if he was actually waiting for her to come find him.

Cora couldn't just go to sleep, no matter how hard she tried. She was more worried now than ever before, and so she decided to go looking for her husband. Though she had no idea what she would do when she found him, there was no point in figuring that out now. She would deal with that when he had been found. Since it was after midnight, the house was quiet. During the day, it was never as quiet and Cora had very rarely experienced Downton like that. To her surprise, a strong feeling of being at home swept through her as she walked the halls, but she didn't have time to dwell on that sensation, as she was worried about Robert. The house was so quiet in fact; that she soon realized Robert wasn't to be found in any of the rooms.

Cora went out to the grounds but was unsure of where to look. She didn't want to call for him either, for fear of waking anyone up and causing any alarm. Fortunately it was a warm night and at the very least she did not have to worry about her clothes. Being just in her nightgown wouldn't cause her any problems; at least not with the weather at this time of night. Desperately trying to think of something, she started down the gravel path.

A thought came to her mind rather unexpectedly: whether she had heard something or it was just her instinct, she didn't know. Cora started to head towards a bench, behind a magnificent cluster of trees, which could not be seen from the house. She and Robert used to sit there when they wanted to escape the bustle of the house for a while. They had not recently though.

Cora recognized Robert's outline as soon as she passed the trees. He was sitting on 'their' bench in a curiously slumped position.

"Robert!" She called out.

There was no reaction, which made her hesitate for a brief moment, but Cora plucked up all her courage, and continued on, calling him again. After all, perhaps he just hadn't heard her.

"Robert…?"

As soon as she made it to where he was sitting and stood beside him, he looked up at her, and she noticed the half empty bottle of whiskey along with his swollen eyes. He had been crying. The full moon outlined his face much more clearly than he would have wished, she was sure.

"Oh my God, Robert, Darling," she whispered, and sat down beside him, all fears of him pushing her away immediately forgotten.

"I'm so sorry", he slurred, trying to repress a sob while taking another gulp of whiskey.

Apparently he was beyond caring about propriety...

"Oh Robert, I've had it with you being sorry. I don't even know what you are sorry for?"

She tried to put her arms around him, but he was so tense that she had to struggle before actually getting close to him. She just wanted to hold him so badly, but obviously he still wouldn't let her just yet. He looked at her and began to speak—

"I'm weak and I've embarrassed you. I'm an awful husband and an awful father. I'm shit at ruining... no, running, Downton. I just can't... I'm nothing. It was so horrible... so horrible..." He took another gulp of whiskey.

Much to Cora's surprise, anger suddenly began flaring up inside of her. She hadn't really understood what he had meant with his last words, but his apparent self-pity was getting on her nerves. Especially because he had let it come to this without letting her help him. Instinctively, she knew that the key to his situation was Africa. She took a deep breath and managed to swallow her anger just in time. He wouldn't tell her anything ever again if she didn't get this right.

"You're none of that and you know it. And you haven't embarrassed me. I'm your wife, remember? I love you." She whispered, and placed a kiss on his temple. After a pause, Cora couldn't hold back any longer and asked him—

"Robert, what happened to you down there?"

For the longest time, he said nothing and just rocked back and forth in her arms. At least he had relaxed a bit, she thought. God, she had never seen him so drunk and so miserable. The formidable Earl of Grantham had been reduced to a whimpering heap of a man.

"I'm here, Robert. I'm here," she kept whispering against his hair.

"It was so horrible. So horrible," he said again. "I can still smell..." He took a deep breath, as if to get as much fresh air into his lungs as possible. "...Still smell the dead. In the heat, it was terrible."

Cora sensed that it was incredibly difficult for him to tell her that, but when he wanted to take another sip out of his bottle, she decided to take it from him anyway and she hoped to God that he would let her.

"Come, let me take that," Cora said as soothingly as she could, while she wound the bottle out of his fingers. Robert was so far gone that he didn't even seem to notice or didn't seem to mind in any case. He looked at her and began speaking again.

"I can still hear them. The cries. The terrible cries. You can't imagine, how wounded men scream and we couldn't do anything. We couldn't get to them, we just couldn't..." He trailed off.

Cora suddenly realized that he was feeling guilty. She had never actually thought about what it must have been like. She never thought that soldiers were more than just those groomed men in their dashing uniforms.

"I failed them. I failed my men," Robert whispered so softly she almost couldn't hear him anymore.

"It wasn't your fault." She told him once and then again and again.

For a while, they sat silently, Cora still holding him close. Suddenly, Robert started sobbing openly. His whole body shuddered violently and Cora tightened her hold around his shoulders. To her relief, he didn't reject her and instead, he put his arms around her and buried his face into her neck, crying and sobbing like a baby. Robert reeked of alcohol, and his tears and possibly other things as well, were wetting her nightgown but it didn't matter. All Cora wanted was to hold him tight and chase his demons away. She wasn't sure if she could actually achieve the latter but she would certainly try. That night, she learned that a war could, and did, wound even the strongest men, and that they had wounds, which could not be seen on the outside but were buried deep inside of their souls. Now she knew that her Robert was a changed man.

"Shhhh, let it all out, darling. I'm here, love, I'm here. Let it all go." Cora soothed him until the sobs and shudders subsided and he had gotten quieter.

In fact, Robert had gotten so quiet, that she feared he had fallen asleep, which would have been a bit unfortunate since there was no way she could get a sleeping Robert back to the house on her own. But then he took another deep breath, raised his head, and looked her in the eyes. His eyes were still rather glassy and he needed a moment to focus them, but after he'd managed that, he slurred as tenderly as he was able to in his state: "Cora, you're such a wonderful woman. I love you and I ever will." And with that, he kissed her on the mouth, which to Cora's surprise and relief, he found on his first try.

Cora had heard all sorts of things about the possible behavior of drunken men; most of which was quite frankly frightening to her. Since her husband had never really been drunk in her presence, she didn't know how he would behave. When their lips met, she kissed him back, but Cora could taste the whiskey and for a split second she feared that he would try to go further and want something more; which Cora really wasn't in the mood for since she found the taste rather unpleasant. But luckily the gentleman in him was still functional, and Robert was obviously not that kind of person, because he soon pulled back and tried to get up, which proved a bit more difficult then he had expected.

"Oh my God," he breathed and came to a stand, swaying rather badly back and forth.

"Cora?" He asked without looking at her, focusing on remaining upright.

"Yes, darling?" Cora had gotten up as well, but didn't quite know whether to try to support him or leave him alone.

"Would you help me?" He was whispering again and she realized he meant more then just help getting him back to the house.

She was standing in front of him and Robert was still looking down at his unsteady feet. But now she wasn't sure whether he was just trying to hold his balance or if he was purposefully avoiding her eyes for fear of rejection. Now, it was her turn to kiss him. Cora couldn't help herself, so strong was the surge of love and happiness that had just washed over her. She took his face into her hands and looked into his eyes.

"Of course I will. I always will." Just before her lips found his, she saw a light returning to his eyes that she had been missing for the last two months, without even realizing it until now.

"But I don't quite know how. I'm afraid, you'll have to tell me." She said.

"Well, try putting your arm around me so I can lean on you a bit. I try not to be too much of a burden."

"You will never be a burden to me." Cora answered while she put her right arm around him so that she could at least try to keep him steady on their way back. She hoped dearly that he would remember all of this the coming morning. And so slowly but steadily they made it back to the house without another word. For the time being, everything seemed to have been said. Cora even managed to keep Robert from tumbling into a rather large vase in the hallway. The crash certainly would have woken up the whole house, and that would have caused embarrassment beyond all imagination.

"Oops, shit... sorry," was all he managed to say, and Cora had to fight surprisingly hard to not burst into laughter at this.

* * *

**Update: Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing! You've all been very kind and I appreciate it very much indeed! Good news is, there'll be more. Bad news is, Robert's going to have a hangover...;)**


	2. The morning after

It's a great pleasure to say "Thank you" again to the awsome **GranthamGal** for her continuing support! Enjoy.

* * *

When they had finally reached their bedroom, Robert fall heavily on the bed and let a rather undignified groan escaped him. With his eyes closed, he finally began to speak.

"Why have you brought me in here? I really should..."

Cora cut him off, though, all lingering amusement of Robert's drunken clumsiness now suddenly gone.

"No, you shouldn't and you won't! Would you like to ring for Carson as well?" She asked in a rather sharp tone. One really could be too polite for ones own good sometimes, she thought. To Cora, the formalities of the English aristocracy were all very well but sometimes they just made her life more complicated than was strictly necessary; especially her 'private' life.

Robert hadn't noticed her sarcasm and was still just looking at her with blinking eyes, clearly at a loss for words. Whether he was trying to figure out how he would explain his condition to his valet or whether he was just startled by her sudden change of tone, Cora didn't know.

"Come on, let's get you out of your clothes," she said more softly and, with that, started to remove his shoes.

Cora soon discovered that removing the shoes and socks was the easiest part of undressing a drunken man who made no effort to move himself and was constantly on the brink of falling asleep. Luckily though, Robert readily did what she asked him to as best as he could.

"Get up, leg, other leg, sit, arm, other arm, no, don't lie down..." It took her nearly half an hour to strip him down to his underpants when she decided that this would be quite enough 'valeting' for the rest of her life.

"God, I love it when you boss me around," he muttered, half asleep now.

"Well," Cora took a deep breath while she piled his clothes onto one of the chairs. "Perhaps I should do this more often then?" She was speaking more to herself now than to her husband, as he had just fallen asleep.

"Move over!" She ordered, but she didn't get much reaction from him and, instead, had to nudge him onto his side of the bed so she could finally go to sleep herself; but, not before combing tenderly through his hair with her fingers and placing another kiss on his temple first.

"Love you," he murmured. Cora smiled. Everything would be all right.

When Cora awoke midmorning the next day, though, she was not so sure anymore. She remembered immediately what had happened the night before but her fear was that Robert would wake up without any recollection of it at all. It had been the first morning in several weeks that she actually awoke next to her husband; unfortunately, the price of this was a Robert who looked like he had been mugged by one of the Gangs of New York.

His closed eyes were still swollen and slightly reddish and he was breathing audibly through his opened mouth, which he must have been doing for quite a long while seeing as his saliva had formed a noticeable pool on his pillow. At least he hadn't had a nightmare again, Cora thought as she watched him sleep. She decided not to wake him just yet, despite the time of day because he obviously needed all the sleep he could get. Of course there was always the chance that Carson or someone other might soon be looking for 'His Lordship' (she still needed to get used to that) because there was an appointment he was about to miss or something of equal importance, but Cora could just tell them that 'His Lordship' was not well and needed to rest. She would deal with that when and if the situation arose. Surly even the Earl of Grantham could fall ill overnight? He certainly looked the part.

Cora watched Robert's chest move up and down with the rhythm of his breathing. She couldn't help herself and put her hand on his chest, feeling the warmth of his body and the beating of his heart. What did he see in Africa? What did he have to endure down there? In Cora's mind, Africa was just a hot desert full of dust and populated by savages. Of course she knew that the Empire had colonies in Africa, but why Robert had had to go there and fight was quite frankly beyond her. It was just something men had to do, she supposed. She would never have imagined that this would have had such an impact on her normally levelheaded and even-tempered husband.

"Fight." What a curious word, she thought, what did that even mean? Before he had gone off to war he had told her that officers wouldn't do much fighting anyway and she should think of him as if he was in London. The climate would be a bit different but the rest would essentially be the same. Obviously it had not been "essentially the same." One did not smell dead people or hear wounded men scream in London.

What did he say last night about the screams of the wounded? How terrible they were? The image of a shot pheasant from one of their hunts invaded her mind, how it had squeaked and squirmed because it hadn't been a clear kill. Cora suddenly felt sick.

In the middle of Cora's musings, Robert stirred under her hand and awoke with in a fit of coughs. Cora grabbed a handkerchief from her nightstand and handed it to him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," she said.

"You didn't. Oh God, my head," he moaned into the small white cloth as the coughing subsided. Realizing he had a pounding headache, a foul taste in his mouth, and was sitting in their bed clad just in his underpants, Robert's swollen eyes widened. "What did I do? Why..." He trailed 's hopes sank. He didn't remember and now everything would be back to square one once again.

"I...," he began again.

Robert looked at her and saw disappointment in her face, disappointment and fear. What was she afraid of? Suddenly, his brain started working again and the events of the previous night came into focus.

"I remember," he told her, and saw the immediate effect of his words.

Cora's face lit up. "You do?"

"Yes, I do." He let his aching head fall heavily onto his pillow again. "Ouch! Yes, I do remember and I'm so very sorry, Cora."

That was not what Cora had wanted to hear. She groaned in frustration and hopped out of their bed to open the curtains.

"Would you please stop apologizing to me? If I hear the word _sorry _one more time today then I'm going to run stark naked across the front lawn!"

As she pulled the curtains open with a swift motion, Robert winced.

"Awww, did you have to do that?" He moaned, shielding his eyes with his hand, as the bright midmorning sun suddenly shone into their room.

"Yes, I did," she answered as she walked back to his bedside and sat down beside him. For a brief moment they just looked at each other.

"I'll try." He said finally. "But, you have to understand that it is much easier for an Englishman to just apologize and go about his business than it is to face a difficult conversation. It's the way we are brought up and the way we do things. We are taught not to burden the people around us with our problems. Especially not the ones who are dear to us." Robert paused to see if she understood.

"I know that, Robert," Cora said softly. "But _you_ have to understand that your problems are affecting us, and not just_ us_ but also the children, the house, and the family as a whole. I am not asking you to advertise your experiences to everyone over dinner. I am just asking that you don't shut me out. I want to help you. But you have to let me."

"I'll try." He said again after a pause. "I can't promise anything, but I'll try." With this, Robert sat up and let his hand wander slowly over Cora's thigh. He smiled and with a rather mischievous glint in his eye, spoke again:

"Running stark naked across the front lawn? Now that's something I'd like to see actually," he teased her as he placed a kiss on her shoulder.

Ah yes, the time for serious conversation was apparently over, Cora thought.

"I'll bet you would, but I think your mother would not!" She replied and slapped his arm playfully.

"You may have a good point there," he muttered just before his lips found hers. They shared their first morning kiss since his nightmares had started weeks ago but when Cora felt his tongue asking for entrance, she reluctantly broke the kiss, took his head between her hands and whispered into his ear. "I really hate to spoil the mood, Darling, because you can't imagine how much I've missed this. But, Robert, you smell, you taste horrible and you look positively rotten."

"Well, thank you very much for that," he said sulkily. But Robert knew she was right. With this hangover, he wasn't exactly a catch, so to speak.

"How about you go and have a bath..." Cora suggested.

"A bath?" He blurted out, surprised. Baths were something for the ladies to soak their skin in, whereas men washed themselves preferably with cold water.

"Yes, a hot bath, it will do you good, you'll see," she told him as she rang for a maid. When the maid finally came Cora caught her at the door and told her to prepare a bath in Cora's washroom and then she was to tell Carson that his Lordship was feeling unwell and they should not be expected for luncheon.

"Well," Robert thought to himself, "that's settled then." Luckily for both of them, he did not feel like arguing at all, nor was he in the shape for it.

Half an hour later, Robert found himself alone in his wife's bathtub, taking the first hot bath of his life—and Cora had been right, it was quite good. A few minutes earlier just before he had headed into his dressing room to wait for the bath to fill and for Cora to dress she had called after him to stop him. When he had turned to look into her face, which was then full of concern, she spoke once more.

"Robert? Promise me that at least we'll talk some more?"

"I promise," he had said, just to see her smile, before heading into his dressing room and closing the door. But now that his muscles were relaxing and the pulsing pain of his headache began to subside slowly, Robert was not sure whether he would actually be able to keep that promise. Robert knew that he had been incredibly lucky that it had been Cora who had found him last night wallowing in self-pity on the bench. What on Earth had he been thinking?

After the row his mother and sister had had the evening before, he had only wanted to get some fresh air. While he had been forced to watch the women quarrelling, the imaginary smells of war had come back along with the faint screams of the wounded soldiers who appeared again and again in his nightmares. Suddenly, the kind of dispute they had been having seemed so pointless to him. What did it matter which dresses Rosamund wore or didn't wear and to whom she spoke or didn't speak when in another part of the world young men got shot and butchered, regardless of where they came from, of what they wore or to whom they talked to?

He had thought of Bates, good old Bates, and had wondered where he might be, how his leg might be, and what he might be doing at that moment. Rosamund could walk around Buckingham Palace in a sack for all he cared—and the realization that he really_ didn't_ care, scared the hell out of Robert.

Soon after all the guests had left and Cora had gone up to bed, Robert had found himself with a bottle of Downton's finest Single Malt in his hands, somewhere outside the house. For the life of him, Robert couldn't remember going to get the scotch, but apparently he had. He was still unwilling to admit it to himself—or anyone else—but he had been too scared to go to bed, after those memories of the war had crossed his mind in this clarity. He had tried so damn hard to forget all of it, to move on, but some images just kept reappearing and he found himself unable to do anything about it. He had scared his wife half to death with his nightmares. In fact, it had always been the same dream and by this point the horrible feeling of helplessness and failure the dream always produced every night seemed almost worse than the actual day of events back in Africa.

Robert closed his eyes again, sighed heavily, and managed to put his head underwater with minimal effort, though the tub was rather small. He didn't want to think about all of this anymore. His mind felt as sore as his poor muscles were.

What he wanted was for the dream to simply go away, for his nose to smell only the scents of his home and for his ears to hear only the screams that were actually present. The overexcited screams of delight his little girls often made when they played in the gardens or Cora screaming out his name when they reached the height of their passion together.

When he resurfaced, he noticed that the water had run rather cold but he didn't have the energy to leave the bath and, if he was honest, he didn't want to face his concerned wife again just yet. He had broken down in front of her last night, he had sobbed into her nightgown, he had shamelessly wallowed in self-pity, and worst of all he had been thoroughly drunk in her presence. He had lost control like he never had before. He had been disgusting and common; and Cora? Cora had shown the deepest sympathy. She had held him as she spoke soothing words, she had reassured him, she had helped him back to the house and then she had undressed him and put him back in their bed.

Much to Robert's confusion, though, he wasn't quite sure whether he felt grateful or angry for what she had done. Part of him wanted her to be angry at him, to tell him to simply get over it, but another part of him just wanted to bury his face into her neck and sob again. She wanted him to talk to her, but what was he to tell her? How could he tell her what he had witnessed in battle without scaring her out of her wits again? She was a woman and she wouldn't understand anyway. But then again, who of his family or friends who hadn't been there would understand, then? This was all getting much too complicated for his liking.

Robert finally heaved himself out of Cora's bathtub, grabbed the towel, wrapped it around himself, and went to look out of the window where he saw a footman walking one of his dogs across the lawn.

What he would give to just be that dog right now.


	3. I'll try

Sorry to have kept you waiting, life has been rather busy lately. I've decided to shorten the chapters, so I can hopefully post more frequently and more regularly.

And as always, thanks must be said to the wonderful **GranthamGal, **who keeps my grammar on the right track. Enjoy!

* * *

"Are you feeling better, Darling?"

"Yes. I do. The bath was a good idea. Robert forced himself to smile.

"Are you hungry? I've had something brought up for you, since you are officially unwell today." Cora teased him. "How about you go back to bed? Take the day off and just relax?"

Robert had feared she would suggest something like that. Surely it would be the sensible thing to do, he thought to himself, but if he was being completely honest, he dreaded the thought. Robert wanted desperately to do something. Something that would take his mind off the things he had just been contemplating in the bath. On the other hand, his body was still suffering from the aftershocks of his hangover and he was not really in the mood for any physical exercise.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am a bit hungry. I've just realized that I missed breakfast." His cheerfulness was well acted as he spoke to his wife. "Thank you, dear."

"Williams asked if he should send for the doctor." Cora told him with a slight smirk.

"I hope you didn't say yes?" How embarrassing it would be if the doctor came and saw that he was 'suffering' from a slight overindulgence in alcohol. He would never live it down. A fleeting picture of villagers sitting together in the _Grantham Arms_, joyously gossiping about the 'Drunken Earl' crossed his mind. He immediately pushed the appalling thought aside.

"No." She snorted and shot him one of her looks.

"What did you tell him, then?" Robert asked feeling incredibly relieved.

"I told him that it's possibly a very light bout of the flu and would be out of your system by tomorrow."

"And he bought that?"

"Why shouldn't he?"

"You're right of course. Why shouldn't he?" He muttered while he crawled back into bed to tuck into his breakfast or lunch or whatever it was he was going to eat. Robert had lost track of time completely, though he didn't really care.

"Mmmh, tea." Robert took a deep breath, inhaling the flowery scent of the beverage. "You can't do anything wrong with a good cup of tea," he said, smiling at his wife who was now sitting at her vanity.

"How was the tea in South Africa?" Cora asked, smiling expectantly back at him.

Robert couldn't help wincing at her direct approach. His expression darkened as he sighed quietly and put the cup down without taking the sip he had so desired. But, he remembered the promise he had made earlier and forced himself to face this conversation. He had promised he'd try and something in Robert felt that he had to honor that. Just before the silence in the room became uncomfortable, he almost whispered:

"Have you eaten anything yet?"

For a brief moment, Robert saw disappointment crossing over Cora's face before he continued.

"Well, what I actually mean is, would you come over here and sit with me? I don't want to talk about this across the room."

To Robert's astonishment, he didn't feel like he would be able to speak much louder than a whisper ever again. But for now he was glad that he was speaking at all. That was a good start, wasn't it?

Cora was beside him in no time. After his initial reply she had feared he would try to deflect from the Africa conversation once again. Without another word, for fear of putting him off, she snuggled close to him, took a slice of buttered toast from his tray, signaling that she would listen to whatever he was about to tell her.

"Well," he took a deep breath. "The tea was actually quite good. That is, if we got some, which wasn't always the case." Robert had picked up his cup again and stared at the liquid inside of it, which was still steaming and giving off its pleasant smell. "It always made me feel a bit at home, wherever I was, because it always reminded me of our afternoon teas, of the family being together, and of when Mary had her first afternoon tea." He chuckled at the memory of his little daughter, trying with ever-growing frustration to copy her grandmother exactly, who of course had perfected the art of drinking a cup of tea like a lady should. "Do you remember that?" He asked.

"Of course I remember it. I suppose it really is quite complicated to balance a teacup properly when your hands are so little." Cora said and they both laughed, remembering the utterly adorable scene, which played itself out in their memories. But when Cora took his hand in hers, squeezing it lightly, he remembered what he was supposed to talk about and forced himself to return to Africa again.

"Most of the time it was unbelievably hot. But we got soon used to that. The nights were cold enough." He sight inwardly. He was babbling about the weather and tea. Those really had been the least of his problems. When he looked up briefly at Cora, she was still smiling expectantly at him, totally unaware of his predicament. Robert felt that he was rapidly maneuvering himself towards a dead end as the horrid pictures of 'that' day bubbled up inside of his mind; even pictures he thought he had successfully managed to bury for good in the deepest depths of his memory. He decided to make a leap for it, anyway.

"Have you ever heard of Sanna's Post?" He asked.

"No, I can't say that I have." She answered. "Sounds quite lovely."

"Well, it was. When we arrived there, it was." In front of Robert's inner eye, the few houses of the town reappeared. The railway station. The small river flowing gently through the little valley, which in other circumstances would have been breathtakingly beautiful. The sound of the trees rustling in the light breeze of the afternoon, and then the smell of the horses and the rattling of the heavy guns they had with them.

"We had just taken Bloemfontein and were on our way to Pretoria. The men were in a good mood. The war was going well, the Boers were essentially beaten, or so we thought. We had a few skirmishes here and there but nothing really serious. To a certain extent you expect to be shot at in a war," he joked rather feebly.

"And Broadwood was a good General, we trusted him."

"Why did you have to go there?" Cora asked. She didn't understand half of what he was talking about, but nevertheless wanted to show her interest, for she truly was interested.

"To Sanna's Post? First of all it was an order and then the town held the waterworks for Bloemfontein, so it was important that we should have a garrison there to protect it." He explained, and then paused before continuing -

"It was all very unspectacular. We thought we might have a few days to rest, relax, and enjoy ourselves a bit, you know. Get the horses back to form and catch up on all that rather boring stuff a soldier has to do when there's no fighting, polish the boots and things like that." Robert managed to smile at Cora, who smiled back at him and he could see the love in her blue eyes, the kindness, and then something else.

When he realized what the something else in her expression was, it shook him to his core.

Innocence.

Robert saw an innocence in his wife's eyes, which in his mind was so pure that he suddenly felt physically and mentally unable to continue his tale. Everything in him froze. He couldn't destroy her view of the world where men like him were noble, soldiers were dashing, a rifle was only used to shoot your dinner, and knifes were used to cut bread. He couldn't destroy all that just so that he might or might not feel better, just because he wasn't able to live with a little nightmare, and just because he was a fool wallowing in self-pity.

Cora felt him tense considerably beside her and sensed that something had just happened. His smile had frozen and he was staring at her, while his mind seemed miles away. She took his right hand in both of hers again and caressed it in the hope it would reassure him in some way.

But it didn't.

"I can't do it," he suddenly snapped, and before Cora was able to say 'breakfast tray' he had fled the room, leaving his wife sitting in their bed, gazing after him, mouth agape and eyes wide, unable to fathom what had just went wrong again.

At least he hadn't said sorry again.

When Cora had finally composed herself, she got up and pondered whether she should go after him. But just when she had decided that she would and wanted to rise from her vanity, she heard the hoofs of _Dundee_ in full gallop. When she turned to look out of the window, she only managed to catch a glimpse of Robert as he galloped away at full speed.


	4. Lost

_I won't make any promises anymore, only that I will finish this story. Thank you all for being there, reading it and bearing with me. Enjoy. xx_

* * *

By the time Robert had reached the woods which began a few miles behind the gates of Downton Abbey, every muscle in his body screamed at him to stop.

'Dundee' was breathing audibly underneath him and started to protest against Robert's harsh riding by bucking frequently, which did nothing for Robert's sore muscles and his queasy stomach.

With the next jump Dundee took out of his own will, Robert knew, he was going to be sick. He stopped the horse and got off just in time to vomit fervently behind the nearest tree, his body convulsing violently, trying to empty an already empty stomach even further.

When Robert was finally able to breathe more evenly again, he turned around and realised that Dundee was gone. He started to look around feverishly, still breathing heavily, but there was no sign of the horse.

Robert started to call out:  
"Dundee? Where are you, old boy? Come on, boy?" He even whistled, although that had never helped in the past with this stubborn stallion.  
His voice resonated through the woods until he paused and listened intently for any sound of his missing animal. But there was none. Just the perfect stillness of the forest.  
"Bloody hell, serves me right," he thought. Robert closed his eyes and took a deep breath while he leaned heavily against a big tree. As he slumped down to sit for a moment on one of its roots, he tore his riding jacket - he didn't care. A torn riding jacket meant nothing compared to the kind of mess he had brought onto himself.

Then Robert did the maths: he had ridden for roughly an hour and he had ridden fast, so he might have gone 7 or 8 miles. By foot, and in his condition, he would need at least 3 hours to reach the gates of Downton again.

* * *

Meanwhile Cora had decided to try to learn as much about the Boer War as she possibly could. She admitted to herself that she might have pushed Robert a bit too far this morning and that she was at least partly to blame for his sudden departure. She had driven him away with her prodding and she was dearly sorry by now. Cora remembered how he had sat on the bench the night before and how he hadn't been able to stop himself sobbing. Her husband was a thoroughly wounded man. She had realised that while she had held him there in the moonlight, but had forgotten it apparently by the next morning. Cora would have to be more careful in the future. Until Cora would be able to understand him better, she hoped, he wouldn't do anything stupid.  
She just didn't quite know how to go about this information gathering business. Yet.

Deeply in thought Cora went downstairs to take her tea in the drawing room when she met Rosamund at the foot of the staircase.

"How is Robert?" Her sister-in-law asked.

Cora was momentarily caught off guard until she remembered what exactly she had told the family.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Robert's better. He'll be up again tomorrow, I should think. He's resting," Cora lied.

"Mama has cancelled her visit today. She is also feeling unwell, must be some bug going around," Rosamund announced with only the slightest hint of irony in her voice.  
"Well, I can't say I'm very sorry that she is not coming today. I'm sorry she is ill of course, please don't get me wrong, but after last night, well, I don't need to hear of my many faults and misdeeds every day."

Cora smiled compassionately at Rosamund. She had been reprimanded by her mother-in-law often enough to understand how disconcerting, embarrassing and tiring it could be.

"So," Rosamund beamed and took Cora's arm "it's just the two of us for tea. Brilliant. We can have a proper girls talk then." With a broad smile, Rosamund lead Cora into the drawing room.

For almost an hour Cora listened patiently and with sufficient attention to Rosamund's tales of London society. How Lord Merton had done this and Lady Dorothy had said that, about who had danced with whom at the latest grand ball and what the King might or might not have been up to on his annual stay in Scotland.

"Cora?"

"Hm? Oh, I'm so sorry Rosamund. I was miles away. What did you say?"

"I haven't said anything for the last 5 minutes. What is it, Cora? Is something troubling you?"

Cora didn't know what made her tell Rosamund the truth but she did and prayed inwardly, her sister-in-law wouldn't tell anyone.

"It's Robert. He has changed."

"But you seem to be so in love with each other?"

"And we are, we are", Cora reassured her. "I didn't mean, he has changed in that regard. Rather the opposite, no, I meant, he..." Cora trailed off, looking out of the window, searching desperately for the appropriate words. She couldn't very well tell Rosamund about last night.

"You mean, he is withdrawn at times? And sometimes even more short-tempered than usual?"

"Yes. So you noticed it, too?"

"I can't say, that I had noticed it exactly until you said it just now to be honest. Even as a boy, Robert was a rather reserved person who could throw impressive fits of temper if he wanted to, so I didn't think much of it.  
A few weeks ago, I had a rather odd encounter with him. When I came up to the house, I found him standing on the front lawn, just staring at nothing. He wasn't looking at the house, like he often does, or indeed looking at anything at all. He was just standing in the middle of the lawn, breathing heavily and when I went up to him and asked what the matter was, he looked at me like I had just materialised out of thin air and then he actually snapped at me, that it was none of my business and I should mind my own. He apologised later of course but I found that very odd. But then I thought, you had banned him to his dressing room or something," Rosamund finished with a small giggle.

Ignoring her last comment, Cora said "See, that's exactly what I mean. I find him brooding in the library or looking out of a window for hours. He even goes for walks all on his own, which he never did before."

"Before? You have an idea then as to what has brought this change about?"

"Yes, I do. I think, it has been that African War. He came back a changed man. At first, I didn't notice either, I was just so happy that he had returned unharmed. But now... it seems to me he didn't return as unharmed as I thought," Cora sighed deeply.  
Rosamund suddenly became aware that this was serious, if Cora actually told her. Normally, one didn't talk about such things in society. If Robert wouldn't be able to recover and become his normal pre-war self again, it could affect all of them.

"What are you going to do? And what can I do to help?", Rosamund offered.

"Well, he doesn't talk much about it," Cora replied, a little bit surprised at Rosamund's frankness.

"I bet he doesn't," Rosamund huffed with rolling eyes.

"But I managed to coax something out of him. Have you by any chance ever heard of Sanna's Post?" Cora asked.

"Sanna's Post? I've heard the name before, yes, but unfortunately I can't remember, what happened there exactly. There was so much in the papers about that war. I just seem to recall that it didn't go very well for us."

The spark of hope that had arisen in Cora went out with a slight pang, just to be immediately reignited when Rosamund continued enthusiastically,

"But, I've overheard a conversation at the last ball between...oh, never mind, about a book that has just been published about the war."

"A book? By whom?" Cora grew more and more exited by the second. They had ordered a whole bunch of new books recently, perhaps Robert had ordered it for himself. She hoped he had in any case, because she would have a lot of explaining to do if she'd have to order it.

"Let me think for a moment. It is called "The Great Boer War" and the author was a physician and he has written some crime stories, too... wait a moment, it'll come to me in a minute... Arthur something..."

"Arthur Conan Doyle?"

"Yes, yes, that's his name. You heard of him?"

"I have. But I didn't know, he was in the war, too. Thank you, Rosamund, you don't know, how much you have helped me."

With another heartfelt Thanks, Cora kissed Rosamund on the cheek and said Goodbye to her sister-in-law. She couldn't wait to have a look at the list of books, they had ordered two weeks ago.

She found the list curiously crumpled and hidden away under some of the more recent papers on Robert's desk and suddenly a jolt of excitement went through her as she recognised the title, added by Robert in a uncaracteristically hasty hand.

* * *

Robert had walked for about an hour and a half, avoiding the village and the farms on his way back to Downton. He mustn't be seen by anyone, otherwise the county would feed on this story for months to come. He mustn't allow himself to grow weak, though he felt dirty, exhausted and the thirst was by now almost unbearable.

He had tried to keep an eye open for his horse as he walked but there had been no sign of it. By now he just focused all the energy he had left on keeping on walking, like he had learned to in the army. If you are low on energy, focus. Focus solely on the task at hand.  
Robert needed something to drink, and soon, otherwise, he knew from his experience in South Africa, he would just sit or lie down along the way and fall asleep and he didn't dare think about what would happen after that.  
But he felt so terribly tired.  
He decided to stop for a short break to take a look around. After all, this was his estate, what harm could it do to just sit for a moment and admire the beautiful landscape. He would just stretch his legs for a minute or two and walk on. If he could only rest for a moment, he would then walk on with renewed energy.  
Just before he closed his eyes in exhaustion he suddenly noticed water burbling relatively close by. How could he have forgotten about the little creek which ran through this part of the woods. And how could he let himself go like this and sit down, he had almost fallen asleep. The dehydration had very nearly gotten the better of him.

When Robert had reached the stream, he fell down on his knees and started to drink greedily. After some time, when the water had taken effect, he stopped and took a deep breath. That was better. He felt reinvigorated.

But he didn't look like it. As he knelt on the shore, Robert caught his reflection in the water. His jacket was torn, his trousers were dirty almost beyond recognition, his hair was dishevelled and he sported a very visible stubble by now since he hadn't shaved in the morning.

"I look like a beggar," Robert thought.

"You're no beggar then?" Came a sudden voice behind him, which made him jump, and if his day hadn't been bad enough already, Robert lost his balance and fell into the stream.


End file.
